


Bibliophile

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Books, F/M, Librarian AU, book lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bib·li·o·phile - ˈbiblēəˌfīl - <i>noun</i> -<br/>a person who collects or has a great love of books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bibliophile

**Author's Note:**

> IDK why but I always imagine Abbie as being an avid book lover. The kind of person that likes to curl up with a book and sip tea and finds comfort in the smell of books. This is the result of me pondering the idea WAY too much.

For the past three years it had been the same thing. 

At least once a week, Miss Mills would breeze into the library and return the books she had checked out the previous week then spend several hours perusing the shelves for new selections. Her selections were varied but interesting nonetheless. One week she would be reading Shakespeare and E.L. James—although that had only been once and she had yet to bring James to the counter again—and the next week it was Nicolas Sparks with a side of Sun Tzu. She rather liked historical non-fiction as well.

But that was not what had caught Ichabod Crane's curiosity. No... no... As a member of the Hudson valley Historical Society and Librarian at the Westchester County Public Library he could certainly understand the appeal of seeking out ancient tomes about the city in which they resided. What caught his attention was that when he would make his rounds putting away discarded and returned books, was that he would often catch her admiring an older book.

Her tiny fingers lightly feathering the pages before she carefully opened it near the middle. She would then bring the book close to her face and inhale deeply. When she lowered the book, her eyes would be closed contentedly and she would sigh softly. More than once she had caught him staring at her process and quickly closed the book and scurried to another aisle.

When she would eventually approach the check-out she would not meet his eyes, only hand over her selections with her library card lain atop them. He often wanted to tell her, as a librarian, he could understand the love of smelling old books... new books... the books that were somewhere in between. But she seemed too embarrassed by being spotted, so he held his silence.

She was... absolutely beautiful. Just by looking at her reading history he knew she was a very intelligent woman. Not to mention she _held_ herself with a grace that could only come from being smart, well-read, and more than ready to go toe-to-toe in a philosophical debate.

In other words... he would never stand a chance of catching her eye, much less her heart. But he always harboured an affection for the petite woman who loved books as much as he did.

Then one day she entered and walked up to the desk, eyes lowered as she placed her previous weeks' books on the counter. She worried her bottom lip as Ichabod scanned them back into the system—it was one of her quirks, she liked making sure they were listed as returned due to some of the staff not being as up to par on making certain everything was done properly. When he was done she looked up at him briefly. “No late fees?” she asked.

“Of course not Miss Mills. When have you ever allowed it?” Ichabod asked softly.

She blushed lightly and looked away smiling. There was something she was wanting to ask, he could tell. “Umm...” she said after a brief moment. “You wouldn't happen to... have any copies of anything by Thomas Paine would you?”

Ichabod chuckled. Ever since the Hamilton musical had swept the nation it was an abysmal effort to keep _Common Sense_ in stock and most of the items he would suggest as a replacement were just as out of stock.

“Unfortuantely, _everything_ is currently lent out and the waiting list is quite long. I would suggest, perhaps, John Locke,” he said tapping 'Locke' into the search on the computer. He pursed his lips. “Or not. Apparently that is _also_ lent out...” His eyes fell to the 'return' cart. He retrieved a book and offered it toward Miss Mills. “We have a copy of Alexander Hamilton which was just returned and we have three more copies due in so... I could perhaps forget that there is a waiting list?”

She eyed the book then glanced up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Miss Mills' eyes glimmered as she greedily took the book from him and hugged it to her chest. “Thank you,” she said softly, then hurried away. About an hour later he found her in one of the lounging chairs scattered around the library—this particular one was tucked in the back corner of the historical section—smelling the inside of the book.

It was then he knew, as his sacred duty as a librarian and fellow bibliophile, precisely what he had to do. Not to mention maybe, just _maybe_ , he could take the leap and extend an invite to her for coffee or perhaps even a meal.

  
#  


“Miss Mills...”

She jumped and clapped her book shut, her eyes wide as Mister Crane, the librarian, approached hands behind his back. Abbie wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She got teased enough about how much she loved to read by her sister, it was down right embarrassing to get caught sniffing books by someone she only talked to once a week. 

To make it worse, he was handsome and held himself with a self-assured air made her want to see if the naughty librarian trope applied to male librarians as well. He was always polished up and proper, using polite honorifics anytime he spoke to people. His clothes were always neat and tidy—tailored and fitted all the way from his polished loafers to his elegant waistcoat and tie.

In other words... he was definitely the type of guy she would often day dream about but knew she would never, in a million years, have a chance with.

Abbie was ready to laugh off the fact he had caught her sniffing books again. She would turn to the same self-deprecating humour she used when Jenny caught her. “I know I must seem weird for smelling books and...”

He smiled lightly and shook his head. Abbie fell silent. “You are hardly the only patron to do so, Miss Mills,” he said affectionately. “I have simply sought you out because I happen to have access to a copy of _all_ off Thomas Paine's pamphlets if you would like to read them.”

Abbie's eyebrows arched. “How many waiting lists are being forgotten?” she asked, grinning brightly. His eyes sparkled with delight and he held out his hand.

“The waiting list is extremely short, with only one name at the top of the list... _yours_ ,” he said with an edge of mystery to his tone. “Although I will warn you... you may not wish to leave the library ever again once I show you this little secret.”

Intrigued, Abbie almost set the book she had aside but then thought better about it and kept it, as she reached out and took his hand (like hell she was going to throw away the chance to bypass a waiting list!). He pulled her to her feet then tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow.

“Just a warning...” Abbie said. “I work for the FBI. If you take me somewhere and murder me, you will not get away with it.”

“I would not dream of harming you Miss Mills,” he promised. They breezed past the counter where one of the volunteers was busy checking in books. “Although I should perhaps make certain you are comfortable walking the munition tunnels?” 

“Sure... they don't bother me. I've had to go into them for investigations before,” Abbie replied.

He paused at an archway that lead down the dimly lit personnel corridor to turn toward the volunteer. “I am going to the Archives, please do call my mobile phone if you are in need of assistance.”

The volunteer gave a disinterested shrug and continued their task.

“The Archives?” Abbie asked as they made their way to a door at the end of the corridor. When he pulled the door open, a set of stone steps led the way into the underbelly of Sleepy Hollow. It was a section of the tunnels she had never seen before. Generally they only worked with the tunnels on the outside of town—it was a favoured dumping ground for murder victims.

Abbie imagined they were pretty damn creepy at night. But at the moment sunlight made its way in through the modern drainage system overhead. Not to mention Mister Crane had thought to bring along a flash light. It wasn't long before they were at another door. He gently cradled her hand in the one not occupied with the light.

“If the lady would be so kind to close her eyes?” he asked.

She nodded and closed her eyes. The sound of an ancient door creaking open reached her ears and then Mister Crane was behind her. One of his large hands rested on her waist and the other took her hand, as if ready to lead her in a grand ballroom dance. Instead he guided her forward, letting her know when she had to step up and when to take a step down.

He let her go and she heard the door creak closed again. A moment later she felt his warm breath on her cheek as he whispered. It was in that brief span of time between him coming close again and him speaking that she considered that maybe, just maybe, she might have a chance at snagging at least a date or two with the handsome librarian. “Welcome to the Archives, Miss Mills.”

When Abbie opened her eyes, they immediately widened and she let out a small gasp. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. There was not going to be just a date or two. She was going to make sure she married the damn man.

  
#  


When Ichabod heard the soft hitch of her breath and her hands moved to cover her mouth, he knew he had made the right choice. He brought precious few people to The Archives. In fact, other than himself and Miss Mills, only three others had been brought to the place—and one of them was dead.

“Oh my God,” Miss Mills said quietly. “Oh my God...” She lowered her hands from her mouth. “Oh my God...” She made to move to her left, then her right, then paused as though unsure which way to go first. “I have _heard_ about this place. When I was with the Sheriff's Department they would keep the old reports and stuff here... and Sheriff Corbin said there was all kinds of old books... _Oh my God_.”

Ichabod clasped his hands behind his back and closed his eyes, smiling. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, Miss Mills would join him for a coffee or an outing of some kind after all. He opened his eyes and sighed contentedly. “It has been my pet project to restore it to its former glory, for the past couple of years, after the Historical Society acquired it. We rescued it from being turned into a mini mall or something equally offensive to such a place.”

“I could kiss you,” Miss Mills said breathlessly, turning to face him. Butterflies filled his stomach when she beamed excitedly. “Seriously... just... I could just...”

He could feel his face burning and looked down at his feet shyly. “Although I would certainly not object,” he said quickly and quietly, hoping she wouldn't catch it. “Allow me to show you to the treasures you seek...”

She cocked an eyebrow and a small smile appeared on her lips just before he breezed past her, heading for the massive work table in the larger half of the Archives. He shuffled through the mounds of books, leaflets, maps, and _yes_ pamphlets he had blasted through after her arrival at the library, trying to see if there was indeed a copy of what she sought available.

Miss Mills was at his side within seconds, gazing at the contents of the work table with greedy eyes as she lay her library book on the table. Her tiny hands snatched up one of the smaller books just as he located the pamphlet she had requested. Ichabod delicately picked up the pamphlet and offered it towards her. She was hugging the book had just acquired close to her face, gently inhaling the pages, her eyes closed. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “Old leather... dust... parchment...” She inhaled again. “I swear I can even smell the ink...” She lowered the book and opened her eyes, then startled to see he had not only caught her indulging in smelling books again, but that he was attempting to hand her something. She quietly set the book aside then gingerly took the pamphlet from him. After a moment of staring, she shook her head with wide eyes. “Oh no, no, no... Is this... this can't be...”

“One of the few remaining original publications of Thomas Paine's _Common Sense_ ,” Ichabod said lightly. “For your enjoyment.”

Miss Mills carefully set it on the table and held her hands back as though she shouldn't be touching the item. “Shouldn't I be wearing gloves or something? Oils from hands and all that...?”

“You are the second person to touch it in 230-ish years, Miss Mills, I doubt one reading by careful hands would do irreparable damage,” Ichabod stated. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you would like. I am afraid I must return to the library. I cannot leave my volunteers to their own devices for too long. I trust you remember the way once you have had your fill?”

Miss Mills nodded eagerly. He handed over his flash light. Miss Mills then threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss firmly on his lips.

  
#  


Abbie was on cloud nine when it came time for Apple Pie Day with Sheriff Corbin. The old man had been giving her shit ever since she had packed up and went to Quantico four years earlier and now it was time for her weekly dosage.

“Well look at you,” the Sheriff drawled as she slipped into the seat across from him. “You're glowin' like a Disney Princess that just had a curse broken.”

Abbie preened slightly. “Well, I'm up for a promotion. If I play it right, I will be the FBI's new SAC in a couple of weeks.” Truth was, she had just come back from what had become her daily visit to the Archives. The sheriff arched a brow. “What?”

“You sure it ain't got nothing to do with a certain librarian that's been sneaking you into your biggest day dream for the past month?” Corbin teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Abbie felt her face warm. How had he known about that? When the waitress came around they both ordered Apple Pie ala mode and coffee. “How'd...?”

Corbin chuckled. “You have to remember... government buildings tend to have alarms and cameras on the outside and in them. And a public library is considered a government building. So people take notice when there's movement in them after hours. And the surveillance crew tends to gossip when it's something sexy going on. And they notify _me_ if it's you or your sister.”

_Here lies Grace Abigail Mills. Cause of Death: Embarrassment_ , Abbie thought. “There wasn't anything _sexy_... we were just... kissing is all.”

“Against the personnel hallway wall in the library?” Corbin asked blandly.

“Mmmhmm,” Abbie squeaked.

Sheriff Corbin cleared his throat. “I suppose it would be a bad time to point out the security cameras have audio feed.”

“Oh God,” Abbie groaned and hid her face in her hands. She silently prayed for the ground to just open up underneath her.

“I turned it off as soon as I realized what was going on... Mister Crane wasn't aware of the surveillance equipment either but has promised neither of you would make an appearance in _that manner_ again.”

Abbie shook her head. “We won't... I promise. I swear...”

“Good,” Corbin said sternly as the waitress arrived with their pie. “But all the embarrassing stuff aside... Is he at least treating you right?” Abbie arched her brows and gave the sheriff a pointed look. “I'm only asking because of your track record of only dating the poster children of various bad life choices. And I promised your mother I would take care of you and your sister.”

Abbie smiled lightly. “Yes he's treating me right. He is a perfect gentleman... most of the time.”

Corbin nodded. “That's what I had hoped you would say. When you see him again, you can let him know he has the blessings of both me and your sister.” He looked down at his pie. “But... just know what he may say afterwards may sound a bit crazy. But it's true. All of it. And if you look to your heart, Abbie, you'll know it's true.”

“Way to sound ominous, Corbin,” Abbie laughed. “Eat your pie before it turns into soup, old man.”

  
#  


She needed fresh air. She needed to walk and clear her head. _Sheriff Corbin and your sister said they would only give their blessings if I vowed to be completely honest with you_. Abbie didn't even know where she was going. _I intend to keep that vow_. She came upon some old boxes in the tunnels and sat down, trying to wrap her head around everything.

_Time travel. Apocalypse. Demons are real. Everything that happened in the woods when she was young was real._

It wasn't that she didn't believe him—God, he looked perfectly sane when he had told her everything. _Everything_. He had died in 1781 and awakened just three years ago. Corbin... _Corbin_ was part of a secret society sworn to protect him _and her_. Corbin had helped him find a place in modern society. The two of them, along with Jenny, had been fighting the forces of evil and put a stop to the Apocalypse.

They had wanted to let her live her life as normally as possible. But when Corbin had found out how close her and Mister Crane had become... he knew there would be no way to keep it from her much longer. So, when he had asked Jenny and Corbin for permission to court her—and God, so much of his behaviour now made sense—they'd said they would give their blessings under one condition: Tell Abbie the truth.

It would make the common person think he was crazy. And for a moment she wanted to think he was. But then she heard Corbin's voice in the back of her mind. _May sound a bit crazy. But it's true. All of it._

If it had been someone other than Corbin reassuring her, Abbie was certain she would still think Ichabod was insane. Corbin was one of the most steady minded, sane people she knew. And if he believed everything, that meant there was proof. If there was proof then it meant Ichabod was perfectly sane. It also meant Jenny had spent all that time in Tarrytown Psych for nothing.

She heard his silent footsteps before he spoke.

“Are you all right?” Ichabod asked quietly.

Abbie nodded. “Yeah... yeah...” she replied. “I'm just... I'm wondering how I'm supposed to work all this Apocalypse stuff into my work schedule. I mean, I'm up for a _big_ promotion with the FBI and... they would think I'm crazy if I told them _anything_ about what you told me...” She sighed heavily.

“If I am to understand,” Ichabod replied lightly. “The promotion is yours. They should be informing you in a week's time. It will give you all the resources available from the FBI and make things easier in the event the CIA needs to become involved. No questions asked.”

She took a moment to absorb that knowledge. “So, basically, I can turn the entire Sleepy Hollow branch into a sort of Apocalyptic task force if I want to.”

“There are already several agents _in the know_ who are more than eager to assist. If you wish to expand the team, there would be no arguments.”

He cautiously sat down beside her and took her hand in both of his. “I feel so guilty now,” Abbie said quietly. “All those years I spent thinking my sister was insane...”

“She has already forgiven you,” Ichabod replied.

Abbie leaned her cheek on his coat sleeve. “Did you fall in love with me because you knew I was the second witness?”

“Oh, no,” Ichabod said with a soft chuckle. “I was already falling for the lovely young woman I kept catching sniffing books, long before I realized she was to be my other half.”

Abbie lifted her head and smiled up at him. “In that case... I will accept your request for courtship Mister Crane.”


End file.
